


winter sun

by pissedofsandwich



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Durmstrang Student Miya Atsumu, Love Letters, M/M, miya atsumu being whipped in all forms and kinds of universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedofsandwich/pseuds/pissedofsandwich
Summary: “I’m exhausted,” Tobio says. “Where is the Quidditch?”Tadashi stares at Shouyou. “This is just the opening.”Kei looks straight up disgusted. “What in the world did you say to this besotted man?”Or: five idiots contend with a love letter from Durmstrang Quidditch star, Miya Atsumu.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 46
Kudos: 678





	winter sun

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know anything about harry potter but since the author is dead i now make the rules for the universe. as far as im concerned we own the rights and jkr can suck my dick. inspired by all the atsuhina durmstrang atsumu/hogwarts hinata art, except i know in my heart hinata is a slytherin. i have been reading old gay letters, and i just KNOW that atsumu will be the type of gay to write insane romantic letters but have maybe 10% of the game irl. shout out out to vita sackville-west and joseph o. legaspi.
> 
> edit 10/1/21: i have been informed the triwizard tournamet is once every 150 years. however i have chosen to neglect this fact bcs i own the universe now. the triwizard tournament is once every year like the spring nationals. <3

Shouyou bursts into the library with a panicked face. In his hand, a letter, opened if the broken seal bearing the Durmstrang crest is any indication, brandished to the faces of his friends like a brew of potion gone wrong. 

“I need your help,” he says urgently.

Alarmed—and immediately assuming the worst—Hitoka arises from her seat, wand at the ready. “What is it?” she demands, terrified. “Are you alright? Dying? In trouble?”

“Now, why did you put _in trouble_ after _dying_? Do you think being in trouble is worse than dying, Yachi-san?” Tadashi asks, a hint of amusement in his eyes. All the same, he is closing the book he is currently reading—a ten-thousand page manual on Divination, or as he likes to call it, a “light” reading. Kei, though, is barely paying attention. Perhaps he has charmed the air around him to filter out the sound of Shouyou’s voice. Either way, Shouyou has a crisis. 

“Of course being in trouble is worse,” Hitoka insists. “It could get you expelled!”

Tobio snatches the letter from his hand before Shouyou can stop him. His eyes widen in recognition at the red seal, and his expression goes through an interesting journey until it lands on disinterest. “This must be a love letter,” Tobio says. 

“A love letter?” Hitoka squeals, and immediately Shouyou clamps a hand on her mouth. 

“Not so loud!” Shouyou hisses. 

“A love letter? From _Durmstrang_?” Tadashi’s forehead creases. “Wait, don’t tell me—Hinata, are you actually writing to Miya Atsumu?”

Hitoka surges forward, ripping Shouyou’s hands off her mouth. “Are these letters taxed? We just learned this in W.O.M.B.A.T. today with Professor Takeda, but exchanging international letters require the sender to pay a special fee to the Owl post, or else it can be categorized as an illegal exchange and _oh my God,_ we are going to be expelled—”

“And what a wasted opportunity, too!” Tobio fumes. “You could have asked for Quidditch tips, instead you talk about—” his face contorts terribly, “—love?”

“I did ask for Quidditch tips!” Shouyou yells, so loud that a passing ghost glares and shushes them disdainfully, much to the chagrin of the Triwizard champion. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and continues in a stage whisper, “I _did_ ask for Quidditch tips, but he—ugh, just look at his letter!”

That is when he unrolls the letter and reveals its true length. 

It just barely missed touching the floor.

Hitoka’s jaw drops, and immediately she starts counting the amount of taxes she (yes, she, because Shouyou’s problem is hers too by association, why did she decide to get stuck with these rascals on her first day of magic school?) would have to pay to the Owl post. Tadashi blinks, before he slaps his forehead and snickers, so ugly that Kei is forced to break his little bubble.

“What did you do?” he asks Shouyou accusingly.

“Nothing!” Shouyou groans. “Just—just _read_ his letter, then _help me_ compose the reply. Because I don’t know what to do with—” he gestures at the insanely long scroll, “all this. I really don’t have a clue!”

“I’m not reading anything that _long_ ,” Tobio says, “if it doesn’t have Quidditch in it.”

“It does!” Shouyou says. “Or—at least _I_ think it does, I haven’t read the entire thing closely but—I asked about Quidditch, so he should answer. Right?”

“Oh, Merlin,” Tadashi swipes at his eyes. “Alright, come here. Let’s get to it.”

*

_Dearest Shouyou,_

_A tiny, beautiful crow arrives on my windowsill just this morning, and Aran-kun—my Quidditch team captain, he is the one I told you about—swatted at it with his wand under no other reasoning than the belief that crows bring a bad omen._

_Poor little fella, it fought tooth and nail to get to my bedroom, but only got as far as getting himself trapped in the cage Akagi-san brought in. I had to explain to them our little promise_ — _to write to each other, once the moon is gone and I’m homebound to Durmstrang_ — _to convince them that this little crow must be heavensent from a piece of my heart left in Hogwarts, which I am afraid will soil the sanctity of our promise, but I had to do what I had to do. As I’m feeding the crow, waiting until I am alone to read your words, I find myself asking the heavens for who was the culprit who hated this tiny creature so much as to saddle it with such a prejudice. A name is a prayer, you know. Can you imagine being a baby crow, being told that you were born as a bad omen? Evil._

 _If I were any smarter_ — _impossible by any standards, as I will prove as I plan Hogwarts’ demise at the next Triwizard tournament_ — _I would invent a new spell just to reverse the poor fate the crow has been dealt with. It is simply unacceptable, that such a tiny little thing, weathering through the terrible distance between us just to bring me a piece of you, should be greeted with the bleakest of welcome_ . _Truly, if the curse the crow brings with it is the words from my love, I'll surrender myself fully to damnation._

*

“I’m exhausted,” Tobio says. “Where is the Quidditch?”

Tadashi stares at Shouyou. “This is just the opening.”

Kei looks straight up disgusted. “What in the world did you say to this besotted man?”

“Um,” Shouyou says. “I told himit was cool of him to ask me to dance at the Yule ball with him.”

*

_Dear Atsumu-san,_

_How are you? It was so cool of you to let me dance with you at the Yule ball! As promised, here I am writing to you. Hope we can trade some Quidditch tips! I really want to up my Seeker game, and you had a lot of things to say when we hung out at the ball! Talk to you soon!_

_Hinata Shouyou_

*

“That’s it?” Tadashi gapes. 

Kei is _hollering._

“Tsukishima, you piece of shit, don’t laugh!” Shouyou says, ears turning red. “I’ll—I’ll stupefy you!”

“Poor Atsumu-san,” Kei says in between laughter. “This is the funniest thing since the day you were born, Hinata.”

“Mean! So mean!” Shouyou yells.

The ghost shushes them once again.

*

… _I will make sure to send the crow back with lots of love …_

*

“Is he going to narrate every single thing he does?” Hitoka asks.

*

_… You ask me how I am, and I have been sitting and pondering on what my answer should be, as I want to be truthful, but not give too much away. The truth is, I have been aching. Now that my shoulder knows the weight of your head, it will never sit right until the day you can lay on it again …_

*

“Before I traumatize myself permanently,” Tadashi asks, “what is the rating of this letter?”

“Oh, god, he’s not writing _pornographic_ letters,” Hitoka smacks both her cheeks, “ _over international tax rates_ , is he?”

“Where is the Quidditch?” Tobio complains.

“It’s not porn!” Shouyou yells, earning suspicious stares from the entire library occupants. The ghosts mumble something offensive. The tips of Shouyou’s ears are very, very red, and Kei is laughing his ass off. Isn’t being mean a trait typically attributed to Slytherins? The sorting hat must’ve made a mistake when they put him into Ravenclaw. “Also, Yachi-san, don’t worry about international rates, I sent the letter using my crow, so the Owl post doesn’t know about this.”

Hitoka gasps. “ _Unauthorized_ postal service? _Over international tax rates?_ ”

*

… _I have been clenching and unclenching …_

*

“Oh, God,” Tadashi says.

*

_… my hand…_

*

“Oh, God,” Tadashi says again, with feeling.

*

… _just to remind myself again what it feels like to be holding onto yours. I find walls terribly drab for leaning on nowadays; my elbow has gotten used to resting on your shoulder, and the way you would just let me._

_At one point at the Yule ball, before I asked you to dance, I remember seeing you, just standing with your back turned to me, and as I approached you I had this thought that the top of your head is just the perfect height for me to rest my chin on. I curse myself every day since my train departed that I didn’t do just that. You turned around just as the thought flitted through my mind, and the sight of you and your slicked back hair under the moonlight made me forget myself. I have been blaming myself for that missed chance. I’d like to redeem myself next year. That is, of course, if the goblet spits out your name again. It better._

_But of course, I feel the most pain in my lips…_

*

“No,” Tadashi says, putting the letter down.

“Yamaguchi-kun,” Shouyou pleads. 

“I can live without reading the dirty details of your hook up with Atsumu-san, thank you very much,” Tadashi says. “Also, it’s very clear at this point that you can literally reply with just about anything, and he’ll still be as whipped.”

Shouyou hides his face. “We did not _hook up,_ first of all,” he tries.

Kei cuts in. “Right, in Atsumu’s world that would be far too scandalous, you _canoodle_ under the sheets—” 

“ _Besides_ , Yamaguchi-kun,” Shouyou steadfastly ignores him, “Atsumu-san has the same face as Osamu-san, wouldn’t you like to know how—” Tadashi yelps, putting up the letter in front of his face again, “I’m reading, I’m reading!”

Kei stares at Tadashi in disbelief. 

“You… and _Miya Osamu_?”

“What happens at the Yule ball stays at the Yule ball!”

Tobio pokes Shouyou on the shoulder. “Is that all the Quidditch mention in the letter?”

*

_… they tingle at night, before I go to sleep. They miss the delicate touch of yours, soft but firm, one which I believe will resurrect the drowned Ophelia from the weight of her dress, the very true love’s kiss that they say in fables will wake a princess from its slumber. And wake up it did; when you pulled away, it was as if I’m seeing things again for the first time. You, most of all, are not just any sun like I had predicted before; your heat is not felt like a day in the summer, but on a cold winter day. It creeps on you slowly until you burn. They’re red-hot and longing for you, Shouyou._

_To summarise: how am I? Well, I miss you. I thought I was prepared, but I was dead wrong. Something that all students who go to Durmstrang are taught is that we don’t need memories. The past does not matter as much as the present. And I have been the poster child of this school, Shouyou. The pride of Durmstrang himself, they tell me. I'm supposed to embody all the things that Durmstrang stands for, and yet here I am, lying in the thick of the memories of you. And it greatly, greatly pains me that it might be a while yet before we get to make new ones._

_I certainly hope you are faring better in missing me, Shouyou. It hurts to yearn the way I do for you._

_What is it you want to know about Quidditch?_

_Until next time,_

_Miya Atsumu_

*

“So?”

Shouyou looks up hopefully at Tadashi. The Gryffindor prefect sighs, folding the letter on the table. “So what, Hinata?” he asks. 

Shouyou answers with an impatient huff. “How do I answer all that?” 

“Well, with honesty,” Tadashi says.

Shouyou blinks, then turns to Hitoka, who has been way too quiet for Shouyou’s liking since they got to the second page. “Yachi-san, can you believe this guy?” is what he meant to say, except he finds Hitoka silently dabbing the corner of her eyes with the edge of her Gryffindor tie. Shouyou does a double take. “Yachi-san?”

“He’s so _earnest,_ Shouyou-kun,” Hitoka sobs. “You know, I actually agree with Yamaguchi-kun. You should be honest!”

“I don’t know what that means!” Shouyou throws his hands. “This is why I come to you guys. For _help_.”

“Well, only you know what’s honest,” Tobio says, pinching his chin. “It seems like Atsumu-san is talking an awful lot about things that are not Quidditch. I don’t know what to make of that. But I think, if someone wrote this many words when I just want to talk to them about Quidditch, then I won’t like that.”

“He likes you, if that isn’t clear enough,” Tadashi adds. “Do you like him?”

“Well,” Shouyou starts, thinking about the way Atsumu’s hand had rested on the small of his back, then his waist as they danced. 

There are two consecutive moments in his life that Shouyou counts as the happiest. One was when Natsu said her first words— _Nii-chan_ —and two was when the goblet of fire sprouted his name, a Slytherin and a muggleborn, as the Hogwarts contestant to enter the Triwizard tournament. He’s beginning to consider the addition of a third, a moment he shared with Atsumu when they escaped the throng of the swaying bodies on the dance floor to be under the river moon, just after he'd won. He’s very much on the fence about it. Does liking Atsumu mean he has to like Quidditch less? If liking someone comes from the heart, would he have to move other stuff to make room for this new person? He doesn’t want to move around anything that he holds dear to his heart, nor does he want to choose. Does this make him bad at this—whatever _this_ grows to be?

“Do you want to talk about things other than Quidditch?” Tobio asks, out of the blue. He’s looking at Shouyou seriously. 

This is when Shouyou realizes that while his admiration for Atsumu comes from the fact that he’s such a legendary player, he also… wants to talk about other things other than Quidditch. In fact, he had. As a muggleborn Slytherin, it was hard to ignore the occasional ‘mudblood’ thrown by fellow Housemates. He had to put his guards up, but make himself approachable at the same time to break the ‘evil Slytherin’ stereotype. Cheerful, but keeping everyone at a safe distance. Get close, but not enough to touch. But there was something about Atsumu that made him want to open up, an ease that was hard to find even among his peers, and as much as Shouyou was happy about it, he’s also terrified. He doesn’t know what any of those feelings meant. 

Atsumu had shown such a genuine interest in him when he started talking about his muggle life under the moon river, how confusing it was sometimes to be a part of two worlds: muggle and magic, Miyagi and London. How he worried one day, there would come a time where it would become a necessity to clenase Natsu, who wasn't magical, of his memories. How lonely he felt sometimes, among blue blood Slytherin players who only gave him a second glance because how good he was with Quidditch, how he knew that it was his only defense against the House bias. It had circled back to Quidditch, at the end, because they both held the sport with veneration, it being the one thing they loved more than themselves, but for a moment, Shouyou had given Atsumu a piece of his childhood, and Atsumu had taken it. And proceeded to write all these beautiful things about him, words he knows he couldn’t manage in return.

His conflict must show on his face, because Hitoka reaches out to hold his hand. 

“Word vomit,” she says. “Sorry for the mental image, but it’s what I do when I have so many feelings I don’t know how to explain them.”

Wordlessly, Kei rolls a quill to his grip. He doesn’t look at Shouyou long enough to see his grateful smile, though. 

With a deep breath, Shouyou begins to write.

*

_Atsumu-san,_

_Your words blew me away. I'm very stupid when it comes to words I actually have to repeat a writing class 'cause Professor Ukai said I don't know grammar nor punctuation. But I know some things, like how what I feel must be something special because when I'm lonely these days I don't really feel sad, because for some reason I know you must be thinking of me too._

_I think I get it when you said that it hurts to miss someone the way you miss me. For me it doesn’t hurt though, just scary. I haven't been in love before because Quidditch is more important, so I'm scared actually to find something that might be just as important. Maybe even more. I think I need you to be scared with me, so I don't get lonely in this fear. Do you want to help me be less scared?_

_Oh and please tell me about how you pulled off that last trick at the tournament! I want to know how you managed not to fall on your bum with that swerve._

_Yours,_

_Shouyou_


End file.
